


A Meditation on Strength

by valkyrish



Series: No Time for Romance [1]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Comfort/Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sex, Romance, suppressed emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 16:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3296585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrish/pseuds/valkyrish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even Hera’s faith can be shaken, and the luxury she can’t afford is the only thing that reminds her of what’s at stake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Meditation on Strength

Kanan had started meditating again long before reclaiming his identity as a Jedi. It was the last one of his tools he ever thought he would need in his line of work, but some days, it was the only way he could keep his sanity intact. He didn’t have much of a choice since his old vices were much less appealing as of late.

Most days were easy, so most days it was unnecessary. In just a few short months aboard the ship, they had fallen into such a fine harmony that he wondered why he had ever bothered working alone. Working with Hera was as natural as breathing.

As months turned to years, their common goals kept the underlying tension in check. The more time Kanan spent with Hera, the more his beliefs fell into line with hers (not that he would say it outright). He didn’t have to say it when it was clear that she understood.

But there was no denying that she was coming around to some of his beliefs as well. He saw it in the way she stared during late nights in the cockpit. He didn’t need the Force to feel it, not when she insisted on keeping closer quarters than were necessary for her spacious ship.

He had become a part of her personal space, to the point where she seemed less at ease when he wasn’t within arm’s reach. That was just fine by him.

But there were days when the stress was too great and their usual conversations and cheerful banter gave way to sharper, more personal jabs. These were the times when Kanan meditated, because she was so much stronger than he was.

But even the strongest warriors had their limits.

In all their years on her ship, he could count the number of times it had happened on one hand. It only came after some of the darkest, most hopeless days in their mission. Days like that, she would confide in him, shook her faith. But it always began the same way.

“Kanan, I need you.”

And not as in “Kanan, I need you to man the cannons” or “Kanan, I need you to take a look at the thrusters” (though Kanan was quick to point out the double meanings of those statements). Just “Kanan, I need you.”

On those nights, the weariness in her eyes faded into something else. He recognized it, for he never bought into the whole celibacy bit that some Jedi had preached, but it was better than anything he had seen before. Passion against the Empire looked beautiful on Hera, but passion towards him was downright transcendent.

Kanan was powerless against the potent combination of that voice, those words, and that look. He didn’t wish for those days – in a way, he dreaded them, for they came at a steep price – but he would always be there when she needed him.

The first time, she caught him off guard.

“What are you saying?”

And she had answered him with the most incredible kiss of his life. The dam had burst, and neither of them did much thinking after that.

Everything else in the galaxy paled in comparison to those rare nights with Hera. The war and the Empire would fade away. Family and friends they had lost would bow out of their thoughts in deference to these stolen moments together. It was as terrifying as it was healing. In those moments, Kanan knew Hera was right.

It was too late, for love was long since an unfortunate given between them. Their only recourse was to avoid acting on it, save these precious, dangerous occasions.

Their conversation after always went the same way, and it was the only time they discussed it at all.

“This can’t happen again.”

“I know.”

Then, she would try to leave, and he would whisper “Stay, just for tonight.” Because he needed her, too, more than she would ever need him.

And she would stay, wrapped in his arms, head against his chest, just for the night.

Only in the fleeting moments just before sleep and reality claimed them could he dare to imagine what their lives could be like without the Empire. He didn’t have the luxury to think these thoughts, but he and Hera were already breaking their self-imposed rules, so he allowed himself to pretend.

Of course, without the war, they never would have met, and without loss, she wouldn’t need him at all. The twisted humor was not lost on Kanan.

She was always gone in the morning, and he always pretended not to notice when she left.

She didn’t cut him any slack, not that he would have expected or wanted it. He could have convinced himself the whole thing was a dream, except now she had new nicknames for him. Hera could make anything sound wonderful, but “love” had a much better ring to it than “idiot.”

**Author's Note:**

> I read A New Dawn and saw a couple episodes of Rebels, and then this happened. The song Pretend by Bad Suns probably inspired this fic, even though I didn’t realize it until later.


End file.
